


desperately

by alejandrathemexican



Series: Regency AU [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Eloping, F/M, Forbidden Love, Regency, Regency Romance, Secret Relationship, based on a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alejandrathemexican/pseuds/alejandrathemexican
Summary: A drabble that's been expanded into a five chapter story. Daughter of a gentleman farmer, Astrid never thought she'd fall in love with one of her family's tenants. Aged 21 years-old and faced with a marriage of convenience she has a choice to make.Son of an apparent widow, Hiccup's life changes when he finds a letter his mother had received and ignored, and when his beloved is thrust into an arranged marriage.There's only one thing left for him to do: say goodbye.





	1. In Secrecy, Desperately

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949112) by [alejandrathemexican](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alejandrathemexican/pseuds/alejandrathemexican). 



“Going up to the house, Hiccup?” called Gobber from the darkness of the living room. He’d fallen asleep by the hearth again, apparently.

“I’m not looking be seen,” he defended himself, “I shan’t be seen.”

And he’d meant it. Not even by her. He only wanted a glimpse of her one last time before he undertook his journey.

One last memory of her glowing presence through the windows of the ballroom.

Just enough that the mark she’d seared in his heart couldn’t possibly fade over time.

He’d truly meant it.

Until Astrid had called his name from the darkness.

“Miss Hofferson!” He’d stepped back, eyes wild, heartbeat in his throat.

Astrid stepped from behind a tree, letting the moonlight bathe her. She looked breathtaking in the dress made of delicate blue fabric. Stylish in her long white gloves.

“It’s just me. What are you doing here?” she whispered, like she was afraid to be caught.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I didn’t wish to cause you any trouble, but I had to see you. Even if from afar.”

She glanced bitterly at the glowing lights and the distant music. Then back at Hiccup. Her acquaintances would never dare talk to him directly.

Would say it was bold of him to dare address a lady so forwardly.

She wished she was born in his station or that he had been born in hers. Then she could dance with him under the candlelight’s glow, her parents looking on with pride.

Then maybe she could even dance with him twice.

Astrid dared take another step forward hesitating when he backed away. She feared the pain that’d overcome his gaze.

She loved him too much.

The silence kept stretching between them like a never-ending valley until he shifted, his shoes disturbing the dried leaves in the ground.

“I had to see you before I left, but now I have to go.”

“Go?” she still approached him, “go back?”

His skin was littered in freckles from being exposed to the sun. Her mother had never let Astrid’s come to that.

She’d cut away her outings, just like she’d tried to cut their attachment.

He thought about her question for a moment, unsure of whether being honest could make any difference. This would be the last time he saw her.

In the end, he decided that there was no other way of loving her than honestly. That’s why he was leaving after all.

“There’s something I have to take care of in the North. Someone I have to find. Astrid… this might be the last I see you. I can’t…” he broke off with a choked sound.

Offering her hand, she said nothing. What was there to say? She understood perfectly.

Watching her be married off to another wasn’t something he could do. The thought was too agonizing.

He loved her too much. He couldn't and wouldn’t torture himself with the feel of her lips on his, so he settled for the torment of the warmth of her hand.

The area was cold in the winter, but she felt nothing but heat when his fingers delicately pulled her white glove off and laid his lips on the back of her hand, and then the palm, and then the wrist, where he stopped.

His eyes were closed, and he was trying to smell her skin.

Trying to drink her in so she wouldn't ever leave him.

If he had spoken he couldn’t have said it any clearer.

Astrid watched him hesitate, and the dreaded reality broke her happiness.

They were loving on borrowed time.

Inside, the ballroom of the Hofferson house was full; everybody was keen on celebrating her coming of age and engagement, and she was outside in the garden, hiding behind a tree on the pretext of needing fresh air.

She was outside, letting a man she could never marry kiss her naked hand.

They knew it would end someday, when she was old enough to be betrothed, knowing he’d never have enough for her parents to accept him.

Not now that he’d lost everything. Not now that she was to marry.

Anxiousness filled him as he helped her pull the glove back on, as she straightened her attire, making sure not a hair was out-of-place.

She looked at him, then back to her family’s house, then back to him.

He waited for her to leave. To go back to her own party.

But she didn’t.

Instead, eyes set firmly on himself, she took a swift step forward, and pulled him down to kiss him. Her hands settled, trembling, on the lapel of his only coat.

He hesitated for less than half a second before he was crushing her to him, their kiss deepening, loosing themselves in the other.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to get out of the kiss, but the tingling on the delicate skin her lips and his hands around her were enough even when they parted.

Short of breath, she laid her head on his chest.

Thinking.

Listening.

“Astrid, what are you doing?” he protested, but he held her tightly, afraid that if he let go, she’d leave forever. “What have you done?”

 “Take me with you,” she whispered, fingertips soft over his heartbeat. “Wherever you go, take me with you.”

He stepped back, green eyes frantic as they searched for hers, “I have nothing to offer, I don’t even have a good name. You know the risks. You know what they’ll say.”

Her gloved fingers scrunched the fabric of his threadbare coat as she raised her furious blue gaze to his. “I _don’t_ care. You said you’re going North anyway; let us go to Gretna Green and _then_ what can _they_ say about that?”

Shaking his head, his hands shifted from her upper arms to comfort her tightened fists. “And then you could never come back, don’t you understand? They’d never take you back after that.”

Her scowl had lessened, and her voice was softer, earnest: “I’ll learn to economize. We’ll do our best, because I really don’t care, Hiccup. If I cared I’d never have loved you. Don’t you understand?”

His heart skipped a beat. Something in her sincere expression told him she meant it.

She’d really go with him.

Hope sprouted from his fingertips as her grip relaxed. “Take me with you,” she said again.

Exhilaration started to grow within him like a weed left unchecked. “Yes,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers, her hands firmly in his grasp. “I will.”

Letting herself be married off to another wasn’t something they could do. The thought was too agonizing.


	2. Prayer

She couldn’t help but curse their timing as she slid from corridor to corridor on her way to her room, engaging her acquaintances and disengaging them in such a way that they would remember her polite, but brisk, and as last-seen in the ballroom.

The darkness would’ve been a better ally, but her parents had splurged on several beeswax candles for the occasion instead of the tallow ones, and she was left exposed in their stark light, unable to hide in the dim corners their usual lighting arrangement left in every room.

The engagement hadn’t been yet publicized; the proposal hadn’t yet been made, but it was expected, and people insinuated as much with a wink when they met her before Astrid excused herself with looking for her sister.

Her sister! The idea of refusing such a good offer that could improve her own sister’s prospects was simply unthinkable for the landed sort.

The idea that she would refuse it to run away with a nobody?

The scandal would already be shocking enough when they found out she’d ran with him without people knowing Hiccup was only one of the stable grooms.

She let out a relieved sigh when she reached her quarters. It seemed that luck was on her side as she hadn’t encountered any maid or any of her parents.

By God. What would her mother say? Her dear Papa?

Heartbeat like a hound dog biting at her throat, she couldn’t help but yelp when something yanked her around with a vice-like grip.

“Emma!” gasped Astrid at the sight of her little sister’s petite shape. The surprise was quickly overcome by terrified fury. “What have I told you about-!”

“-about not standing right before you without saying a thing,” droned Emma, annoyed herself. “Because when you’re frightened you lash out,” she added. “Mrs. Rutley mentioned you were looking for me.”

Her sister’s smile was solicitous, and Astrid couldn’t help the pang she got when she realized this may very well be the last time she saw her.

“I wasn’t,” she blurted after a moment of hesitation. “You should go back. Enjoy the ball before they send you back upstairs.” Because Astrid wasn’t yet married, even though Emma was 16 she still wasn’t _‘out’_ and could only attend events like these with express permission and even then, only for so long.

But Emma was good at smelling the fear on her; she’d always been.

Blue eyes so like Astrid’s squinted, zeroing on her. “Surely you know this ball is entirely for you,” she started, “what are _you_ doing up here?”

Time wasn’t in her favor.

Glancing to both sides to make sure no one had seen them yet, Astrid pulled on Emma’s elbow with one hand and opened her door with the other, jerking them both through into the little dressing area they shared.

Standing before the vanity table, Astrid begged Emma to help her out of the dress.

“Don’t you want me to ring for Jennings?”

“I need you,” instructed Astrid at her little sister curtly.

Emma did as she was told, all objections dead on her pursed lips.

Once it was done, Astrid began to step out of her skirts. “Bring me your oldest dress, Emma. Your worst dress. Bring everything it needs.”

Astrid waited for her little sister as she went, her heart still pounding and her mind reeling. She allowed herself to feel the fear and pain of what she was about to do.

She was about to abandon her sister. She was about to abandon everything she loved.

 _‘No. Not everything’_ said something inside her. If she didn’t leave now, she’d forever regret it.

As she married and bore children for Mr. James Warwick, and lived in the height of luxury, she knew she’d always think about Hiccup.

He was who Astrid wanted. _He was it_.

_‘And Emma?’_

Emma would grow well and be fine without her.

 _Emma_ was coming back with a boorish gown, and Astrid had to freeze her feelings in steel, schooling her expression into something calmer.

Her little sister threw the gown on the settee, and Astrid rushed, kneeling to examine it.

It was perfect. It was old-fashioned enough that it wasn’t done in the vertical style; it still needed the quilted petticoat and had the lowest waist she had seen in a while. Wearing it, maybe she’d be unfashionable enough that Astrid could pass for a rich merchant’s daughter.

Emma sat next to the splayed dress with a huff. At Astrid’s quizzing look, she huffed again, louder. “Doing only what you say is making me weary, and you won’t tell me what’s your mischief.”

Astrid’s heart filled with premature nostalgia as she reached to caress her sister’s cheek. “Oh, dearest…”

“What are you doing?” Emma pleaded to know, her temper rising.

Astrid recognized the signs, but she stood up regardless and began to dress herself. “It’s best you don’t know,” she said without looking at her little sister. Astrid paused long enough in her ministrations to throw her a brief look, “but I do hope you can keep our current conversation a secret.” _‘and that you’ll understand when the time comes,_ ’ added Astrid to herself.

Finishing dressing and rushing to stuff a folded quarto sheet on her pocket, as well as her coin purse, Astrid dashed to her little sister, grabbing her pouting face with both hands and pushing a kiss on her forehead.

She left Emma at the settee, confusion all over her features, and when she was by the door, she stopped, looking back only to say.

“Even when you hate me eventually, please know that I love you. You’re second only to someone else.”

Hiccup paced, stopping once and a while to glance at the view of the great house. The ball was still going full-swing. He fretted that she’d be discovered, stopped, or that they’d be caught, and he hid behind a tree when he saw a lady’s approaching form.

It looked like Astrid, but he didn’t want to risk it.

Fortunately, his suspicions were proved correct when she whispered his name.

“There you are!” he whispered, rushing to her with reaching arms, holding her within them, hiding his face in the nook of her neck.

She trembled for a moment, hands rising to cling to the sides of his coat. Still between his arms, she said: “Let us go now, before they realize I’ve left.”

Hiccup stepped back to get a fuller perspective of her, and he noticed the pain nestling in her lips and pooling in her eyes as she threw a glance at the only home she’d known until then.

Swallowing his nascent fear, he squeezed at her arms to call her attention, making her turn to him.

“It’s not too late, yet,” he whispered urgently, “if you’ve changed your mind I swear I won’t say a word about this. You’re safe with me.”

Her fingers curling on the lapels of his coat contrasted with the happier memories of a little while ago, and so did her indignant eyes.

“Do you doubt me? My regard for you? Are you wondering if I’m being sensible?”

“No! No- not at all. But I don’t want you to hurt. I don’t… want you to regret _me_.” He swallowed. His throat felt like a tightening noose was over it. “I’m not sure I could survive that, my love.”

Her freezing eyes melted. Her anger was now lukewarm sadness. “I’ve had to do without you this past year. I don’t think I could do it for another day.”

“There’s nothing I’d regret more than letting you go,” she continued after a pause, “and I never knew myself until I saw you tonight and I almost lost you.”

He let out a shaky breath, “I love you,” he said and pressed another kiss to her lips. “And we must go. We’ll walk by Carlisle. We should reach Gretna in the early morning.”

Astrid nodded, and without another word took the hand he offered.

She begged that they’d get there safe. She begged that Emma would keep her secret.


	3. Discovery

And so, they were married. Irregular though it was, they had run to the anvil and before its master swore to cherish each other as husband and wife.

The old blacksmith was already used to being disturbed at inordinate hours of the day and night, so a couple begging to be married at only four and fifteen in the morning was within his modified concept of the word ‘regular’.

Overtaken by their good fortune, they didn’t think twice of stopping at the coaching in for a bit to eat before they traveled in the direction of Dumfries.

With the money from Astrid’s reticule and his own meagre savings, they could afford to get themselves light breakfast and two places on the next stagecoach leaving at 7, some two hours ‘til.

Their plans arranged, they couldn’t help but lower the guard and later be surprised when Mr. Hofferson pulled her from her seat, fingers tight on her elbow.

“Papa!” yelped Astrid, struggling to stand straight after she was pushed back, behind him.

But her Papa wasn’t paying her any attention. Instead, he was rough-handling Hiccup into standing.

“You cad!” growled Mr. Hofferson, a large, blond man.

Stars exploded, and Hiccup found himself staggering back his arms flailing about, and only managing to find purchase on a wooden beam.

He only recovered from the dizziness when he heard Astrid pleading.

“No, Papa!”

But Mr. Hofferson was already pulling her outside, whispering furious orders to her ear as Astrid struggled.

“Sir!” ran Hiccup after them, trying with all his might to seem imposing, “Sir! unhand my wife!”

“Your wife?” stopped Mr. Hofferson and yelped when Astrid took the opportunity to step on his foot with such spiteful the force, he let her go instantly.

Astrid rushed to stand before Hiccup, his arms holding hers gently, as she took great pains to protect him.

But Mr. Hofferson was not launching himself towards them. Instead, he hardly knew where to look; the shock in his feature was evident.

“It can’t be true… His wife? Oh, my dear girl…”

Astrid stepped forward, a fearsome bravery in her snarl, and Mr. Hofferson scowled in disgust.

“And you’re cowardly enough that you’d use my own daughter to protect yourself,” he spit at Hiccup, but Hiccup stood at his tallest, not walking forward only because Astrid was holding him in place by his coat.

“I shan’t stand in her way, if there’s something she ought to do.”

The scowl on Astrid’s father’s face grew deeper, eyes sorrowful. “But you already are. How will you feed her? If you expected a penny of her money-”

“Father, that’s enough,” she interrupted, “perhaps you might glance about and tell me if this is the best place to have this conversation.”

He quickly agreed with both young people, taking notice of the people, who, although accustomed to dramatic encounters, there being Gretna Green, still managed to find enough curiousness in themselves that they couldn’t look away from the confrontation.

Mr. Hofferson guided them inside, where he begged leave to use a private room and was allowed given he paid the price.

Once inside, Mr. Hofferson couldn’t stop his pacing.

Astrid quickly found her comfort in Hiccup’s arms around her, and this disgusted her father, who could barely acknowledge their presence.

Finding enough courage to speak, Astrid approached her father when he finally went still.

“Papa…”

“How could you?” whispered her father. “How could you be so unfeeling, so _foolish_ and selfish as to do this?”

She remained silent, but with her chin proud and her blue eyes determined.

“ANSWER ME!” he shouted, turning around to shock her.

“You mustn’t talk to her like that.” Interceded Hiccup, stepping forward.

If anything, his intervention infuriated Mr. Hofferson even more.

“And YOU! Despite all we have given you! That without our charity your mother would’ve been left to rot on the streets, and that we gave you a job and sustenance, is this how you repay us?”

Hiccup tolerated some further abuse before shouting he would not leave Astrid, louder than the larger man, making him stop his tirade. “I will not leave her.” He repeated. “Not unless she wishes me to.”

Mr. Hofferson seemed to think he had finally found his advantage. “Astrid?”

But Astrid shook her head in firm denial.

This made him irate, but he did his best in holding back his anger.  “Your own decency must convince you to turn back with me. It’s still not too late; Emma’s made your excuses to our guests, but it shan’t last long if you fail to appear.” He said through clenched teeth. “You’re a reasonable young woman. Surely you must know how your disgrace might affect your sister.”

Astrid wasn’t to be dissuaded, no matter her trembling lower lip. “I will not leave him.” Feeling a burst of hot coal-like emotion burning inside her, she couldn’t help but burst in frustrated, angry, desperate tears. “I love him. I will not leave him.”

Hiccup rushed to her, holding her through his sobs, as she said over and over again, “I love him, Papa. Please don’t do this.”

They sat in silence, barring Astrid’s angry sobs, the men sharing a meaningful glance, and Mr. Hofferson let himself drop on the settee, defeated.

Nursing a growing headache, he watched Hiccup as he rubbed comforting circles over Astrid’s back. With his imploring glances, Hiccup seemed to beg him not to upset her.

He sighed. “I see then. What was your genius plan?”

Hiccup had the decency to look appropriately guilty before admitting that they didn’t really have one.

“We didn’t plan this, Papa…” said Astrid, not looking at her father. “I went outside after the dinner set, merely to get some air, and found him coincidentally.”

“I wasn’t seeking her out,” the young man rushed to explain himself. “I only wanted to see her one last time before I left. From afar.”

“When I learned he was leaving, I begged him to take me with him. I couldn’t bear it any longer.”

Rubbing his face with his hands, Mr. Hofferson listened to them tell a tale of heartbreak and duty. Of love and despair. At the end, all he could do was murmur. “What am I to tell when I return?”

“When you return?” repeated Astrid, all the glee and hope returned to her eyes and voice as she jumped to her feet. “Papa…!”

Glancing at the clock on the wall wearily, Hiccup reminded Astrid and awkwardly apprised Mr. Hofferson of their travel plans.

“Dumfries!” exclaimed Mr. Hofferson. “Whatever are you going there for? Won’t you wait until we can work out something? If the deed is already done, we must do it properly, to save Astrid’s reputation.”

“I am sorry,” said Hiccup, “but this cannot wait.

“You must lie to your acquaintances,” said Astrid, barely a trace of her sniffles left.

“If we accomplish this, I might be able to secure a way to provide for Astrid comfortably.”

“Indeed?” glanced Mr. Hofferson at him with cold distrust. “And this cannot wait?” glanced he at Astrid, pleading.

But Hiccup shook his head. “Time is of the essence. We must use every minute, for I am looking for my father.”

“The late Mr. Haddock?” inquired Mr. Hofferson, a hint of disinterest in his voice.

“No,” said Astrid, pulling out and unfolding a letter from Hiccup’s satchel, and presenting it to her father. “We’re looking for a man named Stojan Grant.”


	4. Mr. Haddock, Mr. Grant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nosey customer turns out to be just what Hiccup was looking for.

“Well, my friend, I reckon we might be ready to open soon. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Mr. Ingerman, I can hardly do any less than assist you if I’m your employee.”

“Star employee! Why,” said Mr. Ingerman, scrambling for a book he dropped, huffing with the effort of his large stature and size, “when you first applied for a job here, I never would’ve dared say you’d become such a favorite of the ladies.”

Hiccup laughed, finishing his dusting of the front-most shelve. “Neither would I, Mr. Ingerman. My lovely wife is quite at odds with the knowledge of it, I must own. She finds it rather curious. I try to console myself with the fact that they can’t possibly mean anything by their flirting,” admitted Hiccup. “It’s only that they know I’m penniless, married, and as such, can hardly be of any harm and a perfect practice for their arts of allurement, given that I’m so difficult and discreet of a target.”

“I also believe,” Hiccup continued, “that it is only the novelty. The rest of the men here are all so very imposing and all manners of impressive. They must be gawking to see whether I’m truly a person and not just an apparition.”

“Well!” protested Mr. Ingerman, being one of those imposing and impressive men, but could say nothing else at such a speech, because when he turned to the door, there was already a customer waiting. Gulping with excitement, he opened the door and greeted the man.

Hiccup left Mr. Ingerman to do his courtesies, welcomes and suggestions to the new customer, and quickly took the cleaning tools to the back, and, satisfied that his immediate help was not needed at the shop for it was hardly a fashionable hour to shop, Hiccup set about organizing.

He was lucky to have Fiske Ingerman as a friend. When Hiccup and Astrid had first arrived at Dumfries and walked all the way to the great Grant House, an estate almost two miles south, they had been most disappointed to have missed Stojan Grant.

The man had decided on a tour of the country, and was not expected back for months, said his housekeeper. Hiccup had already been aware of this, having begged his friends in the serving line of work dig for any information about the man, but had been hoping to catch him before he left, now that he had completed the means he’d need to travel there.

Dejected, the new couple had turned back, and Hiccup had resolved to find employment, hoping that his wife wouldn’t have to.

After all, he was used to the toil of labor, while she had always been taken care of by people of his strata.

With little people willing to take him as a servant without any sort of recommendations, he had been stopping at the bookshop, and had taken up a friendship with the owner, that ended up with Mr. Ingerman offering him a job in exchange for room and board, Mrs. Haddock becoming the companion Mr. Ingerman had sought for Mrs. Ingerman.

This way, although they hardly had any spare money, the Haddocks were saved from destitution, while Hiccup awaited the return of the master of Grant House.

Still musing on the past half a year, Hiccup felt overcome with gratitude for his friend, for without his help, the Haddocks would have passed their winter in a much more deplorable situation. Feeling the need to expressly tell this to Mr. Ingerman, Hiccup first glanced to see that their new customer was out of earshot.

Mr. Ingerman giggled, and although this was in such a contrary way to his usual solemnity while dealing with customers, it was quite his natural form, and therefore didn’t notice that their customer’s attention and sense of hear had been engaged.

“Well, Henry, I’m myself grateful to have gained such an earnest, hard-working, determined employee.”

Hearing himself lauded thus, Hiccup had no choice but to protest. “I’d call myself selfish more than earnest,” he said with a laugh, “for as determined as I might be, it’s only to keep my wife from labor. You could work me to the bone, Mr. Ingerman, (though that wouldn’t take long) so long as Mrs. Haddock can remain comfortable. I’m determined she shall not regret our match.”

Mr. Ingerman thought this quite romantic and was lost in daydreaming about his own wife’s loveliness, and the pretty way her dark hair curled, only to be brought out of his own head when Hiccup spoke again.

“Regardless, I’m due for another visit at Grant House tomorrow. I’m hoping its master is back, for I must deliver him news of a most delicate nature.”

“And what, pray,” interrupted the voice of the customer, “are those news of a delicate nature?”

Mr. Ingerman blushed with mortification, and Hiccup with annoyance at their being overheard.

“I’m terribly ashamed and doubly sorry, sir,” said Hiccup smoothly, “for it seems my friend and I have been so loud, you couldn’t help but overhear our conversation.”

The gentleman, large as Hiccup had only grown used to seeing when he’d arrived, had splotchy stains spreading over his face at being so elegantly reproached. The stains were almost as gloriously red as his hair was.

“Overhear!” he called, his deep voice booming his displeasure, “ _no_ , sirs. I hear only what pertains to me, seeing as _I’m_ the master of Grant House. You’re obliged to tell _me_ these news, then!”

“I am obliged, sir, to believe _you_ are Stojan Grant, but I’m afraid I must beg you provide me with proof of it, for I shan’t share my news until I’m certain.”

The large man huffed, then announcing that he’d be expecting Hiccup’s call no later than noon at Grant House. “This news had better be worth the inconvenience,” he’d grunted, then left the bookshop as a whirlwind.

He’d taken them quite by surprise then quit them, leaving them both blown away.

Gulping, Hiccup had to stammer his agreement of the plan to the gentleman’s back, his coolness and levelheadedness having left him quite alone and defenseless.

Hiccup shared a dumbfounded look with Mr. Ingerman, before the larger, blond man’s brow furrowed.

“You mustn’t tarry, then, Henry. Go do what you must.”

Thanking God infinitely for having set Mr. Ingerman in Hiccup’s path, he had not the patience to do anything but run to the Ingerman’s home in  ___ street, where the butler, seeing their guest of six months hurry, was already perched at the ready, having the door swing open as soon as Mr. Haddock reached for the knocker.

“Thank you, Smalls,” he called as he ran by, not caring and not having been taught the impropriety that was running anywhere for the polite sort.

Reaching the drawing room, he stopped and asked the footman if the ladies were entertaining any calls, but having confirmed their solitude, Hiccup didn’t wait for the man to announce him and rather he strolled in, taking the women of the house quite by surprise when he kneeled in front of Mrs. Haddock.

“Mr. Haddock!” called Mrs. Ingerman in shock.

Mrs. Haddock herself was left speechless.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Ingerman,” he said, but he didn’t take his eyes off his wife’s blue eyes. “but I fear I must beg your indulgence for a few minutes alone with my wife.”

Mrs. Ingerman rather felt he should have taken Mrs. Haddock away rather than ran her out of her own drawing room but left them alone after she extracted a silent promise from her dearest friend that she’d be told all the particulars, especially if they were fit for polite ears.

“Hiccup,” scolded him Astrid with a whisper, “what are you doing, you daft man!”

“He’s back,” he explained, “he’s back and I’m hoping, my dear, that our lot in life might improve.”

Although Astrid knew what he meant, she asked that he tell her the full story, and Hiccup did in a brief a manner as he could, before dashing to his rooms and recovering the only thing that had remained unchanged in his possessions since he’d quit Hofferson Manor and taken Astrid with him; his mother’s correspondence.


	5. The Letter

The Ingermans couldn’t afford to lend him one of their horses, since they didn’t have one, so Hiccup decided to walk all the way to the Grant Estate.

The roads were muddy from the night before, and the cold weather had remained even though it was already proper morning.

Hiccup looked up when the grand house was within sight. It was something out of a fairy tale. The house stretched to the sides in gray, moss covered stone, with a couple of turrets. High windows everywhere, and two apparent stories.

When he arrived, the butler was already in the front door. Hiccup then realized he had been expected, when he mumbled some greeting but was still guided directly to the master’s study.

Never before had he been received in a grand estate house like a guest would be, so he couldn’t help his heartbeat speeding when he was announced to the master.

He was shocked how quickly he’d forgotten how much of a mountain of a man Mr. Grant was. His fingers tightened their grip on his leather satchel as he bowed at the man in return.

“Well,” said Mr. Grant, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. “Make yourself comfortable, then.”

Hiccup thanked him, sitting down on one of the plush brown chairs, sighing at the comfort of their quilted backing.

They stayed in silence while Hiccup kicked himself for not figuring out what to say while he walked to the estate.

“I’m waiting, Mr. …”

“Henry Haddock,” completed Hiccup, and wanted to bite his tongue. “Oh!” he started rummaging through his satchel until he found the letter he’d been looking for. “I believe this is yours,” he said, presenting it to Mr. Grant, who had been watching him curiously.

Mr. Grant took the letter, and unfolded it, his big hands thumbing at the stain the wax had once left, and his breath hitched. “How did you get this?”

“It was in my mother’s possessions. You wrote it for her, I believe.”

Mr. Grant’s head sagged down into a heavy nod. “Yes. I did.” He dared not start to read it, for fear of weeping in front of the young man. “So, she kept this? Even after she married?”

Hiccup seemed to struggle, “I don’t know how to explain this…” he started, but something better seemed to occur to him, as he searched for another letter, and brought it up for him to read. “Perhaps my mother can explain better.”

Hiccup watched Mr. Grant read the letter Valka had left for him to read with hunger in his eyes.

He didn’t need to read it again, since he’d memorized it. In it was the confession she’d reserved only for Hiccup’s eyes.

That in truth, she’d never been married, and had taken the name Haddock and pretended to be a widow with the help of relatives. Relatives who were eager to send her away and hide the shame of having an unmarried girl pregnant and not even engaged, because the father of the babe was getting married to another.

The revelation that Hiccup was not legitimate.

He waited patiently until Mr. Grant raised his misty eyes, and his voice was raw, overtaken with emotion. “You said this is your mother’s… Where is she, right now? Where is my Val? Is she staying with you?”

Though Hiccup bristled at the liberties the man was taking with his mother’s name, he forced himself to let it go. Besides, he still had to answer his father’s question. “I’m sorry to say, sir, my mother passed away one summer ago, from consumption.”

Mr. Grant licked his lips. His mind seemed far away. “And you say this is your mother, so that would make you my…”

“I believe,” he started, “that the right term would be _son_.”

Hiccup watched in anguish as Mr. Grant attempted to process this. “Perhaps it would be best if I left now, and returned tomorrow,” he said, taking back his mother’s letter to himself, and getting up. “I assure you, I don’t mean any harm to you or your family. All I need is some assistance, so I may make enough to set my wife up decently. I promise I won’t approach your wife with this-”

“No,” said Mr. Grant. “No wife. I didn’t… I broke off the engagement, but then I couldn’t… I couldn’t find her, and now… now she’s gone,” he finished his words with a grunt as tears defeated him and started streaming down his face.

Hiccup stood still. “I’m sorry to bring you pain. I should go now,” he made to bow, but Mr. Grant stopped him.

“Don’t! Don’t leave yet,” begged Mr. Grant, standing from his seat, clearing his throat. “You said you’re married? We can bring your wife and send for your things. This is… this is where you belong now, isn’t it?”

“I…” Hiccup hesitated. Though this was beyond what he’d hoped for, he never expected to get anything at all.

“I promise,” said Mr. Grant, his gaze on the letter he’d written Hiccup’s mother. “I promise I will keep _this_ promise. If you have nowhere else to go, this can be _your_ home now.”

Hiccup wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. From his pockets, he retrieved a card he’d borrowed from Mr. Ingerman. Though the name in the card was Fiske’s, the address was the one Astrid was waiting for him in.

Stunned, he was, when Mr. Grant instructed the footman to retrieve Mr. Haddock’s wife and possessions from the address in the card.

Mr. Grant brought him out of his thoughts when he cleared his throat. “Please, stay. Make of my house your home.”

“This is more than I ever expected.”

“I’m sure of it.”

They were silent as Mr. Grant examined him.

“You look just like her. When she got quiet.”

Hiccup turned to him, feeling like a vulnerable child again. “What will happen, from now on?”

Mr. Grant didn’t say a thing for a moment, laying back in his chair before he spoke, “I have no other family, so my estate will go to you.”

“But I’m not… I can’t be your heir.” _‘Because I’m your bastard,’_ he wanted to add, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Mr. Grant shrugged, “that would be true, unless I specified it in my will.”

“You would do that? For me?”

“You’re…my son,” said Mr. Grant, licking his lips like the taste of the word was unfamiliar, but pleasant. He went for another taste. “You’re my _son_ , Henry.”

“Thank you,” said Hiccup, clutching his satchel against his body, as the uncertainty he’d been plagued with his whole life settled into contentment. “Thank you. It’s been a long journey.”

Later that night, after having introduced Astrid to Hiccup’s father, who insisted in being called ‘Stoick’, Hiccup lay in his wife’s arms, comforted by the sound of their fireplace crackling, and the feel of her skin on his.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but today’s been such a day.”

He pressed a kiss on her collarbone. “What is it?”

“I got a note back from Emma.”

He rose on his elbow, “you did? That’s wonderful!”

Astrid smiled back up at him, “I rather thought it fantastic. She wrote back in the same letter I sent her. Just a note that said she’d kept my address and would be writing soon.”

Hiccup leaned down to kiss her, settling next to her afterwards. “We’ll have to ask the Ingermans to keep it until you can give your new directions.”

“Maybe even call on them,” suggested Astrid.

“We can do anything we want, now, dear.”

“Oh!”

Hiccup frowned, making as if to get up. “What is it?”

But she just laughed, pushing him down on the bed, and guided his hand to her. Guided it down until his hand was settled against her belly.

“Wait,” she instructed.

Hiccup smiled as he felt his baby’s foot pressing against his hand. “They’re kicking again! Hello, little one,” he cooed, running a thumb over Astrid’s skin, making her shiver.

“It’s the first time they kick this hard.”

He looked at her, moonlight on her cheekbones, and shoulders, dipping into her collarbone. He felt the swell where Astrid’s belly had started to grow over the past four months.

Now that the baby had quickened, it was a matter of time before Astrid started to show.

There was another thing they didn’t have to worry about.

How had they gotten so lucky?

What would his father’s reaction be?

But Hiccup shook his head mentally. They’d tell Stoick in the morrow.

For now? He had this moment, and he desperately wanted to spend it with her.


End file.
